


Negative Space

by MintAqua



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Collaborative Work, Estrangement, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Separation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-06 18:21:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12823365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MintAqua/pseuds/MintAqua
Summary: Yuri is excited about his new life with Victor in St. Petersburg: competing together, training together, and hitting new milestones for their relationship. That is, until he wakes up one day and finds out it's the year 2023. He's got amnesia, and the relationship between himself and Victor has changed dramatically from how he remembers it...





	1. Yuri

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! I know I haven't posted in a while, but I've been working on this thing with my dear friend Aga (AKA fluffyquartz on Tumblr) and wanted to share it with some people, so here it is. We kinda just do this together in our spare time, so I'm not sure if there will be a regular update schedule, but we'll definitely be working on it until it's complete. It's a fair bit more depressing than what I usually do, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Technically, this is the fifth time Yuri has woken up. He remembers consciousness--remembers the stale hospital smell and the distant sounds of a television, of a visiting family, of clipboards and the click of someone’s heels against a linoleum floor--but his eyelids had been too heavy, and his head had buzzed with pain, so he just lied there and fell asleep again. He was at least comforted in the knowledge that he was alive, probably, even if he felt like he was floating in a bunch of nothing every time he woke up. He didn’t understand why he was here, but he was okay.

His eyelids are still heavy this time, but the world around him is louder. The slight yet persistent breeze of the A.C. and the presence of other people in the room is too real for him to ignore. Reluctantly, he wrenches open one eye, then another, though it’s a slow process. The blurred-out room starts gaining shapes, and those shapes come together into one of the nicest hospital rooms he has ever seen. It’s decent-sized, and the sheets feel rather soft, even though his body is sore. There’s whiteness everywhere, the kind you see in washing powder commercials. The only items standing out are bouquets--a ton of them--‘Get Well’ balloons, and an intimidating heap of stuffed animals. Before Yuri can focus further on them, a sharp pain in the back of his head strikes, and it grows stronger as he hears a persistent, alarmed beeping.

A nurse approaches him. Then, the doctor. He hears questions and commands, coming together in another blur. Can you hear me? Open your mouth. Blink. Can you sit up? Sit up. Does it hurt? How do you feel? The beeping fades out and is replaced by the sound of his own voice, raspy and not all that familiar. His name is Yuri Katsuki, and he feels dazed. He knows that much. He also knows that he’s thankful for the water that has been given to him, and that he can count to ten. He knows when he was born and the names of his parents. Some of his answers bring a smile to the doctor’s face.

“You were in an accident,” she says. “You’ve been out for a few days. But things are looking better, now that you’ve woken up.”

Yuri hears his own voice again. It asks what day it is. In the back of his mind, he wonders if he’ll get better before the next skating season.

“It’s Sunday.” The nurse says, writing something down on a piece of paper. “May 7th, 2023.”

The answer knocks the wind from him. Six years? He stares at her, waiting for her to look up from her paper, see his face, and laugh, but she doesn’t. She just stares back. His head throbs with the very real pain that means that this is a very real situation. Fuck.

He tells them the last thing he remembered, though it still hardly feels like the words are coming out of his own mouth. St. Petersburg, February 2017. He had just moved in with Victor after winning a silver medal. He remembers the early morning winter light that colored the world with warm cream yellows and light blues. He remembers Victor’s flushed face, the tips of his ears going pink as he waved, the white puff of breath as he called Yuri’s name. Where is Victor? He hears his own voice, asking that very question.

“Oh…  _ Oh _ …” The nurse’s face lights up somehow. Now, she has something to hold onto. The link between Yuri’s memory and the present. “Mr. Nikiforov was here earlier today. I’ll ask the receptionist to call him.”

She turns around while the doctor examines Yuri’s eyes and around his head, under the bandages, and writes something down. “Amnesia,” she says. “It’s very common when patients have head injuries like this one.” She looks at him. “It should be only temporary,” she adds reassuringly. “Things will start falling in place soon. We’ll take care of it during rehab.”

“How…” Yuri struggles to get the question out, unsure if he wants to hear the answer. “How long until I remember?”

The nurse and doctor share a look. “It depends,” the doctor ends up saying. “But it will come back eventually.”

The two of them leave not long after that, leaving Yuri to quickly realize how boring this place is without any visitors. He can’t find his phone on any of the side tables, and the TV is up in a corner of the room that he can’t see from this angle. One of his neighbors is crying; the other one is snoring. His head isn’t feeling any better, either, and altogether he just can’t find anything to distract himself from the anxieties brewing in his head. Where  _ is _ Victor? Come to think of it, shouldn’t he be training for the upcoming season? He remembers his own emotional breakdown two seasons ago--well...two seasons before his memory went out--and is suddenly overwhelmed with guilt. The last thing he remembered, he was excited about supporting Victor in his ongoing career, side by side, like partners. And now he’s being a burden.

Then again, is Victor even competing these days? He can’t imagine Victor in retirement. He is probably a fulltime coach at this point, for people other than Yuri. He can imagine that part even less. It could be fun, though--training alongside other people, having somebody to talk to about Victor’s weird habits and strict training. Is Victor happy that way, though?

Victor’s name keeps coming up in his thoughts as he drifts off into another nap. In his dream, he feels the harsh winter sun on his face. He hears the screech, slide, and rumble of the tram. He’s waking up in Victor’s bedroom again, and it’s scary and exciting and his heart is pounding.

In reality, he wakes to the gentle squeeze of his fingers. He blinks sluggishly in the general direction of this new presence. “Victor…?” he manages out. His voice has gotten raspy all over again.

“Yuri.” The voice sounds just like he remembered. But Victor’s appearance seems off, and doesn’t line up with his memory. His hair is shorter and (poor Victor) thinner. His face looks more mature, harsher, with wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. Yuri starts to wonder how his own face looks, but that train of thought gets sidetracked when he looks into Victor’s eyes, bright blue, just as he’s always known them. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here. How do you feel?”

“I’m okay,” Yuri says automatically, but the exhaustion in his own voice makes it clear that this isn’t entirely true. He frowns. “I… To be honest, I’m a little scared. But I’m glad you’re here.” He looks at Victor as he says this and squeezes his hand, maybe a bit too hard. But Victor doesn’t seem to mind.

“I talked to the doctor already. And your family.” Victor bites his bottom lip. He seems…nervous, almost? “It’s pretty unsafe for you to fly for the next few weeks. I’m going to rent something out for us to stay in before you can go back home.”

“Ah, that reminds me…” Yuri lowers his voice. “I thought it would be rude to ask before, but...where are we, exactly? Is this America?”

Victor nods. “Chicago. You were here on the tour--when the accident happened, I mean--doing performances in a few cities. I flew over when they notified me.”

Yuri’s heart wrenches. “I’m sorry… That must have screwed up your plans.”

Victor smiles just slightly. It doesn’t feel very cheerful. “No problem. I wasn’t doing much anyway.”

Yuri hesitates. He can sense that Victor isn’t all that happy about it, which means he probably doesn’t want to discuss it, but there’s too much that Yuri is missing. “What...have you been doing? What have  _ we _ been doing?”

Victor releases Yuri’s hand and gets up. Yuri watches his smooth movement as he finds a bottle and two glasses to pour into. He seems comfortable around the hospital room, maneuvering between the hospital gear and all the tokens of concern and affection. Who were those gifts from, anyway? “I retired a few years back,” he says. “I coach some Russian skaters and occasionally do guest performances at exhibitions. And you… Last season, you were still competing.” He offers Yuri water, bringing the cup to his mouth.

Yuri accepts the drink, but holds it himself. He sips thoughtfully. Something is off about the way Victor is speaking, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. “Was I planning to compete this season? Wait…” He frowns. “Actually, come to think of it… Are you still my coach?”

Victor shakes his head. “I’m not. So I don’t know if you planned to compete.”

The casual, off-hand way Victor says it puts Yuri even more ill-at-ease. He remembers Victor’s genuine anger and hurt back in that hotel room, the last time Yuri fired him as his coach. How could Victor be okay with this? How could  _ Yuri _ be okay with this?

“I see,” Yuri ends up saying, because he doesn’t know how to tackle any of these questions just yet. He keeps on sipping, feeling irrationally jealous of the skaters who get to work with Victor now. Of the skaters who get to skate  _ period _ . “I guess it doesn’t matter… I can’t compete like this.”

Victor smiles. Somehow, it feels more genuine than all the other smiles he gave Yuri today. He takes a long sip from his own cup. “A man wakes from a coma and asks when he can go back on the ice…” he muses. “I can think of only two weirdos fitting the bill. Both are in this room.”

Yuri laughs, then winces when his head throbs in protest. He squeezes Victor’s hand instinctively. “Tell me more about the past few years. How is everyone else? Where’s Yurio? What is Phichit up to now?”

Victor squeezes back. “I’m coaching Yurio. Otabek is around a lot. He’s considering transferring. You’re training with Phichit, like the old days. But he announced he won’t be competing again; from now on, he’ll be focusing exclusively on his Ice Park. JJ and Yurio are your biggest competitors, of course…” He pauses. “Do you really want to hear about all of that?”

“I do,” Yuri says without hesitation. “I... I don’t want to feel left behind. Six years is a long time, especially in skating. I want to know what everyone has been doing. I want to know what  _ I’ve _ been doing.” He holds Victor’s hand in both of his own. “Please. Tell me everything.”

Victor is quiet for a moment, then gets his phone. He browses it for a moment before showing Yuri a photo of a small child. Yuri squints; he doesn’t have his glasses on him. “Who is this?”

“Your nephew.”

“My...what?!” Yuri brings the phone close to his face to get a better look. It’s true that the child has Mari’s eyes, and his frown really resembles hers back when they were kids, but... “I can’t believe it… Since when?”

Victor snorts at Yuri’s confusion. “It’s a fairly new development. He’s not even two yet.” Victor swipes through a few more photos. There’s the onsen, Yuri’s family,  _ lots _ of pictures of food. The more relaxed pictures from the rinks are mixed in with photos from their competitions--costumes, tourist attractions, other skaters. Yuri sees himself - an aged-up version of himself, in costumes he doesn’t remember wearing. Yurio appears in many photos, all grown up with long hair, which reminds him a little of Victor as a teen. He notices some changes in the others, too, although they seem subtler to him. “Does it bring back any memories?” Victor asks.

Yuri scrolls through a few more pictures, studying them carefully. They look like pictures from another universe. “No… Not really.” He lands on a selfie of Victor with mid-length hair tied back over his shoulder. He looks simultaneously younger and older, and incredibly undeniably handsome. “This is a good look on you,” he blurts out.

Victor smiles. “You always liked when I grew out my hair,” he comments. “You liked combing it and braiding it… You said it felt very intimate and reminded you of when you first looked up to me.”

“I-I said that?” Yuri’s face grows red. “I wish I could remember any of that... Now your hair is even shorter than I remember it.” He reaches out and mournfully runs a hand over the nape of Victor’s neck, feeling the little hairs there. Victor’s face grows red. His expression is hard to read, so Yuri quickly withdraws, as if burned. He clears his throat. “Um…” He flounders, searching for a new topic. “S-so… You said I’ve been touring, right? And you’ve been training in Russia… I guess that means we don’t see each other often.”

Victor avoids Yuri’s gaze. “We haven’t been talking much over the last few months,” he says, avoiding the question. He pauses. “But now we’re going to spend some time together.” He smiles, but something about his smile feels unsettling. “Until you feel better.”

Yuri stares. “You’re...talking like we barely know each other, anymore.” He pauses. And then the realization hits him--except, no, that can’t be right, there’s no way-- “Victor... Be honest with me. Did we break up?”

There’s a moment of silence. Yuri tries to calm himself. There’s no way, there’s no way, there’s no way--

Eventually, Victor eyes meet his. “Yes,” he says, maintaining his cool; he seems withdrawn, focused, as if he’s concluding a task, not talking to his lover--ex-lover. As if it’s just that easy for him to say. “We separated a few months ago…but never got around to divorcing. That’s why they called me in the first place. I’m still your emergency contact.” He takes Yuri’s hands into his own; Yuri is too stunned to react. The gesture, which he had always associated with Victor’s affection, now makes him feel ill. “But you shouldn’t worry about it right now. I care about you dearly. I’m going to be here for you, for as long as you need.” He squeezes.

The uneasy feeling that had been building up in his gut suddenly intensifies. Victor is taking pity on him, he realizes. He flew all the way from Russia to come here and take care of his dumpy ex-husband, when he could be getting ready for the next season with his latest proteges instead.  _ They never got around to divorcing _ . Yuri hadn’t even been at the top of Victor’s priority list, not in a long time. Suddenly, he hates the way Victor is looking at him right now. He feels like he could puke.

“I-I think…” He reels back a bit too quickly. His head spins. “Can you just...give me a moment? I think I should...rest…”

Victor nods, a little absentmindedly. “Rest, eat, check your phone… All of those things.” He lets go of Yuri’s hands. “I know it’s a lot to take in. I’m sorry you had to find out like this.” His gaze meets Yuri’s again. It feels personal and sad in way Yuri hadn’t known before, but he has a feeling his previous self might have. The Yuri who was married to Victor, and the Yuri who lost him. “I’ll be back later, okay? I’ll bring your things.”

Yuri just nods, feeling mute. His eyes follow Victor out of the room, then linger on the door after he leaves. He remembers the surge of emotion he’d felt when he saw Victor that cold winter morning in St. Petersburg, the overwhelming hope and excitement that had welled up inside him. Childish, he thinks now in retrospect. Stupid, idealistic, and childish. He wishes he could go back to it.


	2. Victor

Victor was never _really_ good at reading Yuri. He knew him better than most - he was able to see the spark in his eyes, the slight slant of his eyebrows, the way his posture changed according to his mood. But sometimes he had issues placing all that body language correctly. He wasn’t able to tell if Yuri was nervous or excited; stressed or determined; calm and happy or really withdrawn.

But he doesn’t have to guess any of these things right now. Yuri is in pain, uncomfortable, nervous and in general dissatisfied with the prospect of living with an ex he doesn’t even remember breaking up with. 

Victor wanted to make this as bearable as possible. He rented a big, two-bedroom apartment with a lot of space, high ceilings and a wide hallway. He stocked Yuri’s room with rehabilitation gear, a console, and DVDs of all the noteworthy movies from the past few years, along with a couple of TV shows and manga that have been published since 2017. 

Victor tries not to stare, but he can’t help examining Yuri each time he approaches another room or item.

“They’re _still_ making Love Live sequels?” Yuri picks up a brightly colored magazine with a picture of nine big-eyed girls on the cover. He looks decidedly engrossed in whatever is inside. Victor never really understood what it was about their adventures that made Yuri lose himself in the panels. Yuri promised it wasn’t about their appearances, insisting that he valued them as three-dimensional characters, but that was hard to believe, considering Yuri’s favorite girl kept punishing the others by touching their boobs.

Yuri peels his eyes away from the magazine. “By the way...where did you get all of this?” 

“It’s all yours. Some of that stuff was in my basement, and some was sent by Phichit from your new apartment.”

Yuri frowns. “Oh,” is all he says. He puts the magazine away. “You really didn’t have to do all that, Victor…” 

Victor smiles reassuringly. “Nonsense. I want you to be comfortable and get better.”

Yuri examines the piles of things lying around the room. “I guess having these things around might help me remember faster…” He looks at Victor tentatively. “I’m sorry to be a burden on you, though.”

Victor has heard this sentence, in one form or another, around eighty times since Yuri first woke up a week ago. “You’re not a burden,” he says, just like the previous eighty times. “I mean it,” he adds. But before he can continue with another positive sentence, he stops himself; sighs; rubs his face. He has tried to get to Yuri so many times already. And Yuri always feels miles away. It’s like a cruel reminder of the downfall of their marriage half a year ago. The wounds haven’t even healed yet, and, once again, he finds himself feeling irritated and hopeless. “I know you feel like it’s all wrong, like I should be somewhere else,” he says eventually and looks up; his eyes meet Yuri’s. He looks a bit apprehensive. At least he’s listening. “But please, trust my own choices. I’m here because I want to be here. I want to help you. And I think I’m the best person to do that… Despite what happened between us.”

“Right…” Yuri’s frown only deepens; now he looks even more uncomfortable. He clears his throat. “Um, if you want, I could help you make lunch.”

That’s it. The moment Victor has been waiting for. “Katsudon?” he offers casually. 

Yuri cracks a small smile. “Sure.”

Yuri’s reaction to the contents of the fridge--completely empty, save for some key ingredients for katsudon--is ultimately underwhelming. He’s mostly confused and full of nervous energy; basically nothing like how Victor imagined it when he prepared the surprise.

He doesn’t ask Victor about it and just goes about the kitchen hunting down the necessary pots and pans. He looks increasingly confused as he pulls open drawers trying to find everything, doing full 360s and muttering things like “where’s the…?” every once in awhile. He gets there eventually, but he’s frowning again. Victor himself remains quiet during this scavenger hunt. He doesn’t know the layout of all the kitchen appliances either, and Yuri’s somber mood gets to him, too. Without a word, Yuri starts preparing the cutlets. Victor cautiously takes over the veggies and the rice, trying not to get into his personal space.

“So…what are your skaters going to do while you’re gone?” Yuri says over a sizzling pan. 

“I asked Lilia Baranovskaya and Georgi to help them get started on their new programs.” Victor pauses chopping. He hums; he’s not sure how long Yuri’s rehabilitation will take. But he doesn’t want to dwell on it; he’s sure it would get to Yuri’s head and worry him even more. “Maybe we will fly them here later. I’m sure Yurio would love to show you his new performances.” Despite everything, Victor grins to himself. He’s always liked how competitive Yurio got when he had a chance to challenge Yuri. “We’ll see.”

“Me and Yurio still have a good relationship, then?”

Victor nods. “You grew closer, training all those years at the same rink.” 

Yuri grows quiet for a moment. “Even after the separation?”

Victor looks at him, but Yuri is avoiding his eyes, too focused on cooking the pork. ”Nothing changed,” Victor says. “You’re still friends.”

Victor approaches the stove to get the rice for rinsing; he makes a mental note to get a rice cooker; this pot-cooking nonsense won’t satisfy Yuri for long.

As he picks up the pot, he realizes that he is physically the closest to Yuri he’s been in ages. Six-month separation aside, they both kept their distance for months before their split. The realization saddens him. They used to touch, hug, hold each other all the time. Victor’s mind drifts, and he wonders if it would feel good now; if his touch would still be able to calm Yuri down; if Victor’s heart itself would be able to take it after all that happened. He is startled out of his thoughts as Yuri picks something off his cheek. A grain of rice.

“Ah.” Yuri looks startled by his own actions. “Sorry.”

Victor smiles at him. “Thank you.”

Yuri relaxes, though not entirely. Victor muses that volunteering to do this domestic task with his soon-to-be-ex-husband might have been a bit too much too soon. Then again, if they can’t even do this together without tiptoeing around each other, there’s no way they’re going to make it through the rest of Yuri’s rehabilitation. Part of him just wants to screw this entire divorce drama and tell Yuri it’s okay to forget sometimes that they’re separated. To just exchange casual touches and hugs and kisses and never say anything about it after...

The oil in the pan starts splashing around and just narrowly misses Yuri’s hand. “Ah!” Yuri scrambles and finally finds a cover to contain the splash. Victor sets the rice down and takes Yuri’s hand -- he examines it. He knows Yuri is fine--the oil didn’t get to him and his skin is clear--but it’s as good excuse as any.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “Did you get burned?”

“I-I’m fine…” Yuri sounds flustered. “Really, it’s okay.”

“Hot oil is very dangerous,” Victor notes, looking up from Yuri’s palm to his face. It looks pink and feels _youthful_ ; brings back memories of fogged glasses and shy kisses. Victor finds himself growing excited, somehow; without thinking about it, he squeezes Yuri’s hand lightly.

Yuri makes a soft noise. His blush deepens. “Um...yeah,” he says absentmindedly. He shakes his head. “Uh--c-can you--the rice, uhm--I have to pee.” He slips from Victor’s grasp and runs.

It takes him quite a while to ‘pee,’ and in the meantime, Victor rinses the rice and finishes cooking the pork and vegetables. By the time Yuri comes back, two bowls of katsudon have been placed proudly on the table. Victor searches Yuri’s face for approval — he was never a great cook, but Yuri’s favourite was one of the dishes he pretty much mastered. He’s not disappointed this time; Yuri lights up like a Christmas tree and makes a beeline for the table.

“It’s been so long…” he says dreamily. “The hospital food was so stale… _Itadakimasu_!” He digs in and sighs contentedly. “So good…! Victor, this is amazing! You’ve really gotten good at this!”

The sounds of Yuri’s approval are like music to his ears. “I’m glad you like it, Yuri.” Victor fills two wine glasses with grape juice -- the closest thing to alcohol Yuri is allowed to have. “You deserve something special to celebrate all the healing you’ve done so far. Cheers.” He hands Yuri the glass. “To a full recovery!”

“Cheers!” Their glasses clink together. Yuri takes a long sip before diving back into his meal, making pleased noises all the while. “Wow… I never thought katsudon outside of Japan could be this good. Did someone teach you?”

“Yes - your parents.”

Yuri raises his eyebrows. “Really? So this is their recipe…” He stares into his bowl contemplatively. “You...were a really good husband, Victor.”

Victor starts nibbling at his katsudon. “One time, when we were visiting in Hasetsu, you got terribly sick with the flu. I wanted to make you feel better, so I asked your mother if we could make katsudon for you. Of course, she agreed. We made it together from scratch, step by step. Since then, every time you were sick, I made it for you…” Victor chuckles. “Even though it’s a pain to get all the ingredients in Russia.” He looks up at Yuri. “Do you remember any of that?”

Yuri closes his eyes, thinking. Victor hadn’t meant the question as a challenge or test, but the way Yuri scrunches his face just slightly and hums for a while makes him think it was taken as one. Eventually, Yuri gives up and sighs. “I...I don’t. How long ago was it?”

Victor makes some quick calculations, comparing memories and timelines. The year Yuri started learning Russian. The summer Victor met Mari’s boyfriend, who would later be the father of her child. That February when the flowers started blooming way before their time. “The first year of our marriage… four years ago.”

Yuri opens his eyes again and plays around with his food. “I guess everything was still good back then…” He sounds distant.

Victor nods. He could say more, share some of the memories, but decides against it. He doesn’t want to overwhelm Yuri, or give him easy answers when he should be trying to remember it himself or through therapy.

He’s also aware how all those sweet memories end; right where they are now. It has been taking Victor a lot of mental strength to keep them from spoiling those past few months; his strategy is to keep them untouched. Stop comparing _then_ and _now_. But it seems impossible when Yuri sits across from him, confused and unknowing.

Yuri’s katsudon disappears in a few minutes, and he volunteers to take on dish duty, leaving Victor with nothing to do but sit around and watch. The silence between them grows somewhat stilted, both of them floundering for something neutral to say.

“Oh, right!” Yuri says suddenly. There is obvious relief in his voice. “Did you ever find out what they were shooting downtown? It looked like a crime show. You don’t really see that kind of thing in Hasetsu. American cities are so exciting.”

There’s a youthful tone in Yuri’s voice again. It makes Victor’s heart melt.

“You lived in America for a long time, didn’t you? For training and college… Where did you like living the most? Japan? America? Russia? Somewhere else?”

“Well...every place was different, of course,” Yuri muses. “It depends more on what I’m doing. I like being home, but it also makes me feel restless, sometimes. I like America’s tourist attractions and skating rinks, but the people can be rude, so I wouldn’t like to live here. And Russia was really, really cold, but it was also beautiful. And living there with you…” Yuri clams up. His shoulders grow tense, like he doesn’t want to say it but knows it’ll be more awkward if he just trails off. “It...made the winter more bearable.”

Despite his better judgement, Victor gets up slowly and cautiously approaches Yuri. He puts his hands on Yuri’s shoulders, intending to give him a small massage, but Yuri’s instant tension makes him back off.

Any move he makes now feels out of place and invasive. He decides against going back to the kitchen table and leans against the counter, trying to occupy as little of Yuri’s personal space as possible. “Did you know I was living in France for a bit?” he asks, conversationally, as if the whole thing wasn’t terribly awkward.

Yuri accepts the topic change with a nervous smile. “I...Is that so?”

“I was training there for a while. Met a boy. I still have a soft spot for Paris. But I love Saint Petersburg and Hasetsu much more,” he assures.

A pause. “Was this before or after our separation?” The question comes a bit sharply, although it’s clear that this is Yuri’s strangled attempt to sound casual. Is there a hint of jealousy? Probably. Does Victor find it oddly flattering? Absolutely.

“I didn’t know you yet. I was 17.”

“Oh.” Yuri flushes, embarrassed. “Right. Of course. Sorry.”

“For the record…” Victor’s voice softens. “I would never…”

“I-it’s fine. I mean, we’re separated, so…” Yuri swallows.

“I just want you to know… We didn’t break up because of other people. And… I’m not seeing anyone,” Victor adds cautiously. Does it even matter? Should it even matter? Probably not. _Definitely_ not when Yuri is recovering.

Yuri exhales. A sigh of relief? Great, now he’s overanalyzing Yuri’s breathing. “Okay. I...don’t think I would cheat on you, either. I hope I wouldn’t.” He rubs absently at a sudsy plate, troubled. “Anyway… After this… I think I’m going to take a walk. Just for a bit.” He says all this to a stain on the plate he’s working on.

“Just a bit,” Victor echoes, addressing the same plate. The stain is no longer there, but Yuri keeps rubbing it, as if scrubbing the plate hard enough could make Victor disappear.


	3. Yuri / Victor

Yuri finds the weather in America pretty weird. Japan has its days, of course, as does any other country. In New Zealand, it could switch from rain to shine five times in a day, and nobody would even bat an eye. But the temperature has jumped from 20 to 32 degrees Celsius in the past week, and as he rushes down the sidewalk to the meeting place, he feels pretty overdressed. He isn’t sure what to expect from his “new” (to him, anyway) coach. Just in case, he erred on the side of caution and went for a blazer and slacks combination. But now he’s sweating through his button-up, and there are sweat stains on the piece of paper with the directions on it.

That was another annoying thing about America--he didn’t want to use up his data, so he had to copy everything down from Google Maps. Plus, the streets were congested, the air smelled like gasoline, one lady scratched his arm and left red marks when she bumped him on the sidewalk… 

If he’s honest, he is maybe being a bit unfair. Maybe it’s all just about him being somewhere foreign while he’s trying to recover; even if America smelled like jasmine, magical no-pollution flying cars went through the sky, (he’s greatly disappointed that those  _ still  _ aren’t around in 2023), and he had unlimited data package, he’d still be antsy... But how is he supposed to recover his memories in a place that isn’t his home? How is he supposed to get back to normal when he’s living with someone he doesn’t even talk to, anymore? He thinks wistfully of crisp winter mornings at Hasetsu, the familiar 5 AM stirrings of his parents in the next room. His computer setup, his bed. God, he misses it. The room he has now feels too stuffed up and overwhelming with all the things he needs to catch up on. He doesn’t remember taking an interest in half the books stocked in there. There’s also some kind of futuristic device that he’s afraid to know the function of; he thinks it’s either a speaker or a vibrator, but it doesn’t have any batteries and he has no idea what kind it even uses. Nothing in there feels like it’s his, and as a result, he ends up spending more time in the kitchen than anywhere else, using his room only to sleep.

Reconnecting with his coach seems like a good place to start, in any case. Yuri wanted to learn more about her before they met up, but Phichit has been busy doing his own thing, his parents don’t know much about her beyond her name and face, and Victor… Yuri didn’t want to ask. He probably doesn’t know anything. Even if he did, Yuri doesn’t think he’d be happy to share.

The sudden breeze of the restaurant’s AC urges a sigh of relief from him. Some of the customers nearby either stare or chuckle at him. His coach is sitting near the kitchen; when she notices him, she smiles at him and gets up to greet him. She flinches a little at Yuri’s handshake, sweaty and awkward. The hot air from the pots and pans in the kitchen isn’t helping his sweating situation, either. Yuri steals a quick look at her. She’s an attractive, tall woman, with mid-length curly hair and strong cheekbones. She appears to be about Yuri’s age, in her thirties, a little young for a coach. Then again, Victor had been even younger than that when he started coaching Yuri.

“Maria Velez,” she introduces herself. Before hearing her name from his family, Yuri had noticed it on one of “get better” cards. It had flowers on it. And it was attached to a bouquet of the same kind of flowers. “It’s good to see you again, Yuri… I’ve been very worried ever since I heard the news.”

“I’m sorry for worrying you.” Yuri bows and takes a seat. “Actually… I’m sorry for getting into this mess in the first place. I must have caused you a lot of trouble.”

“No trouble.” She smiles. “But I am a little surprised that you wanted to see me, all things considered…”

Yuri blinks. “What do you mean?”

“You’re rehabilitating. Competitive skating, or performances in general, should take the back seat for now.”

“Er, I wasn’t going to ask about that...” Though the thought is admittedly tempting. “I just wanted to meet you.”

"Oh," She smiles at him, but her expression seems a little startled. "Well. That's sweet of you." She looks away from him and down at the menu. Perhaps she didn't expect that from him. So their relationship isn’t close enough for this sort of thing? Has he overstepped his boundaries? 

He coughs. “So... Can you tell me more about yourself? What has it been like working together?”

She puts away the menu. She thinks for a moment, and Yuri notices some restlessness in her. “I don’t know you that well, Yuri,” she admits eventually. “You just needed someone to take care of you for the rest of the season after separating with Victor -- that’s it.”

Yuri raises his eyebrows, alarmed. "Is that what I said to you?" When she nods, Yuri puts his head in his hands. "So not only did I ruin my marriage, I was also completely obvious about it..."

She frowns. “Obvious? What do you mean?”

“About missing him…”

“You didn’t speak much about him while we worked together,” Maria says. “You didn’t talk much about anything that wasn’t skating. You were just devoted to finishing the season.”

“Ah.” Yuri’s cheeks are burning. “I see. I...guess I’ve overstepped my boundaries, then. I’m sorry.”

Maria smiles at him. “You had no way of knowing.” Yuri notices a sudden spark of interest in her eye. She leans a little closer, as if she and Yuri had some sort of secret. “If you don’t mind me asking… What is it like? Do you remember anything? Some patches of memories?” she questions.

Yuri frowns. “I remember everything up until I moved in with Victor, during the early days of our engagement…” By now, he has gone over the memory of that morning so much that he’s almost sick of it. It feels tainted--not by the awareness of how their story ended, but just how much anxiety he felt every time he went back.

“And nothing after that? Like a blackout?”

“Yeah… Like I woke up one morning and everything had changed.” And now Yuri is just rattling off the same thing he has told everyone, and wow, does he feel tired.

She offers the usual condolences and sympathies. Talks about how terrible it must feel to be in his position. From that point, Yuri goes on autopilot. He only half listens, and they get through the rest of lunch by talking about food and performances. By the end of it, Yuri is sure that he won’t be competing next season and that his US tour is cancelled. Maria makes some offhand comment about how she feels now closer to Yuri than before. Yuri, on his end, feels even shittier than before. He doesn’t really have anything to look forward to, and no one that’d be in the same timezone and also willing to shed some light on his whereabouts in the past few years. Besides Victor, that is.

 

* * *

 

There was a certain dissonance between what Victor knew about Yuri and what Yuri has been presenting to him over the past few days. 

Victor knew Yuri was a huge nerd, who loved to consume movies, videogames and manga on his evenings off. Yet there was a huge pile of “ _ Love Life _ ,” Nintendo titles, and VR gear left untouched, and Yuri opted for hanging out in the kitchen or the living room, seemingly aimlessly, sometimes with his eyes glued to his smartphone. 

He also took for granted that Yuri wasn’t a hookup or a random date kind of person. Yet Yuri was leaving their apartment more and more often. Victor tried not to think too much about that photo from one of Yuri’s lunches, where there was clearly another seat at the table. It wasn’t any of his business anyway.

He discussed those, and some other things, with Yuri’s therapist, but she told him that big changes in personality aren’t usually associated with Yuri’s type of amnesia. She also expressed some concern over Yuri’s lack of progress and gently tried to bring up to both of them that Yuri might not get his memories back - ever. Victor wasn’t sure what he should do about it. Part of him just wanted to tell Yuri the entire history of their relationship. And part of him still hoped that at least some of that would come back to him on its own.

After every visit to the doctor, Victor asks Yuri if he can start skating again. So far, the answer has been ‘no’, but Victor has already been fantasising about going to the rink together -- doing a nice, familiar warm up; revising some old routines; showing Yuri some of the stuff he had missed. If words didn’t cut it and didn’t bring anything back, maybe skating would. What  _ other  _ than skating could do that?

He’s on his way to bug Yuri about it for the fifth time this week (it’s only Tuesday) when he notices Yuri actually in his room, for once. He’s staring at a magazine spread of himself and a few others from last year’s World Cup, the one where Yuri had taken home his third gold. Yuri hears him approach too quickly for Victor to see what kind of expression Yuri had been making. He spins around and throws the magazine away, as if ashamed.

“Victor,” he says almost breathlessly. “Um… Did you need something?”

Victor picks up the magazine from the floor. He opens it to the skating spread. The skaters looked fantastic,  _ his  _ skaters in particular. For that season, Yuri went with a somewhat futuristic theme. His costumes were inspired by robotics, with a metallic glow and holographic colors. The look and skating style contrasted with the classical music he skated to. Yurio, on his end, went with emotional, fiery performances. Victor was incredibly proud of both of them, but he still remembers the tingles of jealousy that accompanied him. He no longer had the power to challenge them as a competitor - his body wasn’t able to do what theirs could. A slight shiver goes down Victor’s back when we remembers that it was also the year when things started to  _ really  _ break between him and Yuri.

Eventually, he looks up from the magazine. Yuri looks apprehensive, for some reason. “I just wanted to ask how the rehabilitation went,” he says.

Yuri studies his face. “It was okay,” he replies slowly. Eventually, he takes the magazine from Victor and puts it away properly. “He said we’re making progress, even if it is slow. It won’t be in time for me to compete, of course…”

Victor nods thoughtfully. “I have some ideas on what we can do when we finally hit the rink,” he says.

“That won’t be for a while, Victor,” Yuri says dismissively, almost immediately, like he’s tired of talking about it.

“I’ll wait.” He pauses. “So… The magazine… Why did you drop it like it was Playboy?”

“I-it’s not like that,” says Yuri, flustered. “You just...startled me, I guess.” There’s clearly more to it than that, but Yuri seems uncomfortable.

Victor swallows. “We can talk about it…That season” He gestures at the spread. “... If you want,” he says slowly.

“No, I…” Yuri thumbs the edge of the magazine thoughtfully. He avoids Victor’s eyes. “I just...wanted to remember. Why I look so unhappy here.” He flips through to the spread he had been staring at before. “Even here, I look like I’d rather be somewhere else.”

Victor nods. “It was a hard year... Your performance was beautiful, but I had some problems adjusting to retirement. And… You weren’t taking it well.” He pauses. “I’m still not sure why my retirement affected you so much. You never told me.”

“Of course it would upset me to see you upset,” Yuri says immediately. “Isn’t that natural?”

“It was different,” Victor says slowly. His mind goes over each word before he speaks it. “We went through other stuff together. Some family things. Makkachin’s death. And I felt stronger with you. But when the retirement happened… It felt like you were miles away.” He looks at Yuri. “Maybe you remembered that it’s going to happen to you, too, and you felt pressured. Maybe you wanted to carry on the legacy after I left the ice.” He looks away. “Maybe you stopped being attracted to me when I stopped skating. As I said before… I don’t know.”

“It wasn’t that. Of course I was still attracted to you,” Yuri says confidently, almost stubbornly. He closes the magazine and crosses his arms. “I admit I don’t know what I was thinking, either, but… If it was that, then why would I have been attracted to you when you first became my coach? Anyway, you’re acting like I was the one who wanted to separate from you…” he says, growing agitated.

For a moment, Victor forgets that Yuri isn’t technically  _ the  _ Yuri he separated from, and that he doesn’t have all the memories needed to handle this discussion. He feels hurt all over again, and now he’s not met with silence, at least. “You knew what you were doing,” Victor says. His voice rises slightly as he speaks, but never turns into a shout; it grows desperate and frustrated, not angry. “You shut me off… You were just waiting for me to cut the cord. When you broke it off with me the first time… When you said you didn’t want me to be your coach in Barcelona… At least you had the integrity to tell me that to my face. I didn’t get it from you the second time around!”

Victor stops -- he realizes his outburst; his displaced hurt. He looks away from Yuri.

“I’m sorry,” he says flatly.

Yuri stares. His expression isn’t exactly blank--his eyes are wide, so he was definitely taken aback--but there isn’t much else there. Just shock. Then, just like that, he composes himself again. “I’m going to go grab dinner.” He shoulders past Victor and heads for the door.

When Victor hears the shut of the front door, he looks at the magazine again. Somehow, it feels like it’s mocking him. The shiny, cybernetic Yuri feels distant as always. And Victor just feels stupid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear the next chapter won't end so melodramatically next time ahaha


	4. Victor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait! Aga (my co-writer who doesn't have an AO3 account) and I have been really busy with the holidays, and time kinda just got away from us, so it took us a while to go through and spruce up this chapter for publication. Hope it was worth the wait! Happy 2018!

It takes a little over half an hour for Yuri to return with a bulky brown bag full of takeout. The two of them successfully avoid eye contact throughout the whole process of setting the table and laying out all the food, letting the TV noise fill in the silence. Victor finds himself analyzing the way Yuri chews, more out of habit than anything else; it’s like an unsettled movement of the foot, even when its owner is already tired.

Yuri’s jaw is set in a way that means he’s upset. He could be upset with Victor because of the emotional burst earlier today. He could be upset with himself for some unknown reason. This quiet dinner, and this mental discussion Victor is having with himself, feels a lot like a throwback to tense evenings in their home before the separation.

Suddenly: “Has it ever occurred to you that…” Yuri stops. Victor looks up at him. He’s staring at nothing in particular, tight-lipped, thinking. He starts again. “I… guess I can’t speak for myself back then. But right now, I just don’t like feeling like you’re putting up with me because you have to. I think… if this is how I felt back then, then of course I would want to get divorced.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know. I want to understand what I was thinking, how I was feeling, but...at the same time, I’d much rather just go back to how things used to be. Is that even possible, anymore?”

Victor notices that he has been holding his breath. How come Yuri still makes him so nervous and analytical, months after their separation? It’s more of a rhetorical question. He  _ knows  _ he’s not over him, that he still wishes things had turned out differently for them. He’s also painfully aware that those are not good feelings to have, especially now. Victor exhales.

“How things used to be?” he repeats. “What do you mean?”

Yuri meets his eyes, finally. He looks impatient. “When we were together.  _ Really  _ together. When we…” He nearly looks away again, but ultimately doesn’t. “When we loved each other. I don’t know what happened between us this past year, but...I’m still…” And now his eyes are on the table again. His cheeks are pink. “I...don’t want to be distant from you, anymore. Can’t we at least be friends?”

In that moment, Victor feels a very intense sense of longing. He wishes he could be Yuri’s again, and that Yuri could be his -- the Yuri who talks, although with difficulty, about his feelings. The Yuri who tells Victor about his desires. The Yuri with rosy cheeks and warm hugs and everything else. The Yuri he felt he needed more than anything, and whom he has missed terribly.

“I wish we could be like that… Be friends” Victor says. He keeps his eyes on Yuri. There is an unspoken ‘or more than friends’ in the air, too. “But it feels… Wrong somehow. Like cheating on your wishes from before the accident.”

“You don’t know what my wishes were,” Yuri points out stubbornly. He’s tense; determined. “In any case, if we’re going to live together for a while, we should at least be...less…” He frowns and chews, searching for the right word. He lands on a Japanese word, then tries to translate it. “Strange,” he ends up saying.

Victor thinks for a moment, then nods slowly. “Let’s be friends,” he says slowly. “So please be honest with me. As a friend.”

Yuri looks simultaneously relieved and cautious.  “Okay,” he says, matching Victor’s tone.

Victor puts his cutlery away. He takes a sip of Yuri’s drink of choice for the night - Fanta, very classy - and asks the question that has been on his mind for a while now.  “Tell me,  _ friend _ , why haven’t you read any issue of  _ Love Life _  yet? Or played any game?”

Yuri blinks, the tension giving way to confusion.  _ “ _ Er _...Love Live _ . It isn’t a series...but anyway, it’s just…” Yuri picks at his food. “...kind of overwhelming. Like there’s too much to catch up on. It’s hard to figure out where to start, so I just...don’t.”

“I’m just not sure what you do whole day…” Victor admits. “You’re not gaming, you’re not reading, you’re not calling anyone. You go on walks, I guess. And hang out on your phone…”

Yuri laughs awkwardly. “I guess old habits die hard… I used to sit around doing nothing when I wasn’t preparing for a competition, too… Although, that’s not exactly true. I’ve just been trying to piece together what my life was like before, without...taking it on all at once. Does that make sense?”

Victor nods. He plays with the glass in his hand. “I bet you  _ do _  find a lot of memories on your smartphone.” He hums. “It’d make sense that a smartphone would know you better than me, too.”

There’s a short, heavy pause. Yuri picks at his food again. “Yeah... Right…” Then, quickly: ”By the way… Have you kept any of my messages on your phone?”

“I think so, why?”

“Ah, well….I was just curious. I’m surprised you kept them. I thought you would want to forget that sort of thing,” Yuri rambles, trying and failing to feign casualness. Oddly suspicious, that.

“Did you find any interesting texts on your phone?” Despite himself, Victor smiles a little. Yuri seems all youthful and cute, with his fidgeting and shyness. When he freezes up nervously and quickly shakes his head, it feels like an old, good memory coming back to life. “Sexy texts?” Victor prods.

“Nope!” Yuri answers a little too quickly. “None at all. Ahahaha.” Yuri shovels food into his mouth and steadfastly avoids Victor’s smirk. “A-anyway…” He swallows, sobering a little. “I’m sorry. You worked hard to gather all my things. I really do appreciate it… I should just suck it up and start browsing through it. Not that reading manga would help me regain my memories, but…it would be a start, at least.”

Victor sips on his drink with a small nod. “You never know what may stimulate your brain...”

“Can you help me?” Yuri blurts out. “That is...it would be easier if someone else watched some of these movies and shows with me," he admits, and it occurs to Victor that Yuri might have been feeling rather alone these past few weeks. Not just romantically or, well,  _intimately_ , but in the sense that he's been displaced in time, hopping straight from a major peak in his life to a major emotional low. And this is Yuri reaching out to him.

“Of course,” he assures.

Yuri brightens. “We can start with the new season of Love Live. Oh, but maybe you should start with the original series... But that might take a while... We could also start this mecha show I’ve never seen before. Medieval Mechazoid IV. It’s a commentary on...” Yuri rambles on like that for a while, more animated now than he has been in a long time. Victor listens and watches him go on, glad that Yuri’s excitement is showing. He never has been a fan of any weird fandoms Yuri has been into, but seeing Yuri relaxed like that feels worth sitting through all the mecha shows.

They work through the dishes together and freshen up before settling in to marathon the show. Victor sets up the TV, one of the kinds that roll out of the walls, and Yuri watches him in awe. It takes a moment for Victor to realize Yuri has missed all of the technological advances from the past few years, and that he seemingly didn’t use any of the gadgets in his room, yet.

It’s still hard to get used to, being this close to Yuri without Yuri recoiling from him or pushing him away. In fact, Yuri seems to be more comfortable with Victor this close, as opposed to an arm’s length away. For a while, at least just for this moment, it truly feels like things could go back to how they used to be.


End file.
